Mending
by Whovian531
Summary: Overwhelmed with sorrow from Maeve's death, Reid finally seeks help. Unexpectedly, he finds more than just comfort from his psychiatrist, a broken soul guarding her own troubles. The two find themselves steering down a path that is both frightening and incredible, unraveling the unforeseen future in the hands of fate.
1. Intervention

"Why?"

It was the one question that crossed his mind, as he was rendered speechless by the stares of everyone on the team. Everyone's expressions mirrored the same emotions: fear, concern, and anguish.

"It's…what is best for you," Hotchner started slowly, "and we all see the pain in your eyes -"

"Of course there is pain in my eyes!" Reid erupted. Everyone flinched at his sudden outburst. "Maeve died right in front of me! Am I supposed to mask everything from you guys and pretend that I'm fine?!"

"No…but that is exactly what you are doing without even realizing it," Blake spoke softly, placing a gentle hand on Reid's shoulder, "and that is what concerns us. We see beyond this mask you put on and the pain retained inside of you…and you aren't letting us in."

"Maybe because this is one of those things I choose to keep to myself. We all have those, don't we? It's called privacy, which is so hard to keep around here," Reid snapped.

"But this?" Morgan shook his head. "This is eating you up inside…it's consuming you, and you know it, man. This isn't just something to hold within you and allow passing over. What you went through was traumatic and you need to talk to someone."

"Oh, and _you _sure are one to talk when it comes to opening up about trauma, Morgan!" Reid spat out. An immediate tension rose in the air, as an uncomfortable silence filled the room. Garcia, wide-eyed and teary, stiffly held onto Morgan's arm to prevent any possible confrontation. Morgan stared at Reid with restrained anger, jaw set and hands tightened into fists.

Reid breathed heavily, running a hand through his hair. He knew all too well that he crossed the line

"I-I'm sorry," Reid whispered, "that was unnecessary…"

His eyes drifted to the floor, the shame building up as he felt a lump gather in his throat. "I just…miss her so much. Sometimes I feel like she is still here…like I can hear her laugh ringing in my ears, or the way that she would joke with me if I said something silly but wouldn't make me feel embarrassed that I said it. And then…that feeling passes as quickly as she was taken from me."

And that confession was what broke down the floodgates, those spoken words that completely tore Spencer Reid apart into a mess of tears on the floor.

Everything that he strove for, the display of emotional detachment and pent up walls, crumbled around his feet. He could feel the pitiful stares burn into his back, as he remained crumpled on the ground, face buried in his own hands as the tears continued to flow. This was the most he had ever spoken of her ever since that harrowing night, and he didn't have a sliver of strength left to even keep a straight face or stand upright. Hell, this was more grief than what he even expressed by himself.

He soon felt a pair of arms gently enclose him into a comforting embrace.

"If you can't talk to us about this…then please, talk to someone," Blake murmured. "We love you and it hurts us to see you being consumed by this. You need to grieve, Spencer, and I trust this woman to help you."

Reid buried his face into Blake's shoulder, shaking with sobs. The past months spent repressing this pain only surged back in tenfold, sweeping him into a violent storm of anguish and sorrow. He knew from the beginning that this was all too much for him to handle, but his pride refused to accept it until now.

His breathing set into uneven gasps for air, as he felt the stronger embrace of various arms around him. It dawned on him that everyone had moved to the floor, joining Blake in encompassing him in a firm embrace.

In spite of the undeniable love the team felt for one another, public displays of it were rare as everyone retained professionalism. It was occasional moments like this that displayed the true bond that they shared not only as a team, but also as a family…and that only intensified Reid's sobs. He simply couldn't fathom how they could still care and accept him in spite of the withdrawn and hostile attitude he knew he had been emitting ever since Maeve's death.

"I n-need help," he cried. And for the first time in months, Spencer Reid did not feel alone and helpless.


	2. To Feel Again

**A/N: Thank you for the wonderful reviews! I truly appreciate the support, especially with this being the beginning. As a side note, I chose to create this story to really delve into the trauma Reid is personally going through and to describe his healing process with a character that can heal with him (and of course, the show being Criminal Minds, with _many_ complications). I truly hope you guys continue to follow this story, for I promise that there are _a lot _of things that will unravel as it progresses. Happy reading and please continue to review :)**

**Disclaimer: I sadly do not own Criminal Minds and its brilliant characters, which is the sole property of Mark Gordon Productions.**

* * *

"Excuse me, sir? Sir? Spencer Reid…?"

Reid blinked, bewildered. His focus snapped back to the quaint waiting room.

The nurse stared at him, eyeing him with concern.

"Yes?" he asked. He took a sip of his coffee, hoping the effects of the caffeine and immense amount of sugar he added would finally hit him. Compensation for yet another sleepless night seemed futile.

"Dr. Remorin is ready to see you," the nurse said.

Reid nodded, picking up his book bag. He stood up and followed her down a hallway, taking note of the greyish-blue walls and several frames of abstract paintings. There were few doctors' offices he could remember that did not resort to the basic paint job of white or tan walls…it was a nice touch. Calming, even.

The nurse led him to a door at the end of the hall, giving him a kind smile and nod before briskly returning to the waiting room.

The door was slightly ajar, ready for anyone to quickly enter. Reid hesitated, hand initially outstretched to give the door a slight push, but then quickly retracted it.

"Yes? You can come in," a voice called out, startling Reid to nearly dropping his thermos of coffee. He hastily attempted to gather himself together, muttering under his breath. He could have sworn he heard a chuckle.

_Why am I so nervous? _Reid shook his head, quickly drawing in a breath before pushing the door.

His eyes instantly fell upon a young woman sitting behind a desk piled with paperwork. Long dark hair framed her face, contrasting with her bright green eyes and olive skin. Her young age struck him by surprise, but there was something about those eyes of hers he couldn't quite place.

"Hello, Spencer Reid," she greeted him, "I'm Dr. Julianne Remorin."

She stood up and outstretched her hand, which he hesitantly shook in response.

"Hello," he nodded quietly to her.

It was no mystery how his past experiences with women gravitated towards awkwardness. Or rather, almost any social situation presented to him resulted in his tendency to stutter and retreat – much to the amusement of Morgan.

_But Maeve accepted it…_

"It's nice to finally meet you," Dr. Remorin smiled. She motioned for him to take a seat on the sofa nearby as she briefly arranged papers on her desk. "Agent Hotchner told me about you and I admire your publications in criminal psychology."

Reid raised an eyebrow. "Um, you talked to Hotchner…?"

Julianne walked around her desk, sitting in a loveseat opposite of Reid.

"Yes," she replied, "we go back."

"How so?" Reid asked incredulously. His tone of voice must have set her off, as it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "I mean, uh, you just seem really…young."

"And again," she laughed, "we go way back."

Reid opened his mouth to raise more questions but closed it immediately. Again, there was something about those eyes of hers…

"So how are you feeling today?"

It was sadness. That was it.

"I'm fine…uh, a bit tired. Another sleepless night, but that isn't anything new."

At first glance, Dr. Remorin's features were youthful. But actually sitting up close and studying her, she seemed much older than what he assumed. Her haunting green eyes encompassed an unexplainable sadness, aging her.

"You're profiling me, aren't you?" Julianne smirked.

Reid's eyes widened. He didn't realize how intensely he was staring. "No, no, no, not at all," he quickly denied. "I couldn't help but notice that your eyes are so…" he paused. _Where am I going with this? _"Green."

"Yes," she laughed, "they are."

"Only about 2% of the world's population has green or hazel eyes, making them the most rare eye color. Along with violet, which is exclusively found in the Kashmir Mountain Region," he stated. Julianne surprisingly didn't seem fazed by his random exclamation; rather, she looked amused. "Just thought you would like to know," he nodded awkwardly, fidgeting in his seat.

Julianne cleared her throat. "So…tell me more about these sleepless nights."

"Well, these sleepless nights have been going on for years, ever since I joined the B.A.U.," he answered, "it has just been…worse lately. Ever since…"

A flashing image of Maeve's glassy, lifeless eyes passed his mind. Her crumpled figure lay on the floor, surrounded by her own expanding pool of blood. He struggled to breathe, attempting to break from this episode but already felt his vision begin to tunnel and blur. A ringing filled his ears –

"Spencer?"

Reid blinked. Dr. Remorin's face gradually came to focus, expressing worry.

"Breathe, just breathe," she reassured. "You're here now. We don't need to talk about it if you're not ready."

Reid nodded in appreciation, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Certain things, especially sounds, took him back to that day…even just mentioning it sometimes resulted in losing himself in a momentary trance.

"Sorry," he whispered. He shook his head, embarrassed.

"Don't be," she assured him. "I understand. Go ahead and take a moment if you need it."

Seeking a distraction, he shifted his glance around the room. Focusing on the greyish-blue walls seemed to calm him a bit, serving their aesthetic purpose well. He noted the hanging of various frames of certificates and awards, but not a picture of anyone was anywhere to be seen. _She emotionally distances herself from people, focusing on her career as a distraction, _he noted.

_Oh wait. _His eyes caught a small picture frame placed in a far corner of the room. An older man and woman were depicted, posing stiffly and smiling. _I reckon they are her parents…but even then, the small frame and awkward placement represents how distant they are. _

He drew in a deep breath, turning to face Dr. Remorin.

The session continued, as Reid calmly chose to discuss more about his experiences in the B.A.U. and the dynamic of the team. He knew that such topics were basic, but it wasn't necessary to delve into tragedy so early in therapy. Laying down the foundation and gaining a grasp her technique was what needed to be achieved. She listened well, interjecting at times to clarify and ask questions. He began to feel more at ease talking to Dr. Remorin than what he expected, especially considering their awkward introductions…or at least in his part.

"Unfortunately, it's the end of our session," Julianne eventually said, expressing an apologetic look. "And with that, I want to ask you if there is a particular goal you would like to achieve through our therapy?"

A moment of silence followed, as Reid stopped to collect his thoughts. He concentrated so much on diving into this first therapy session without even formulating some kind of goal in mind. There were so many things he knew that were wrong, so many things he had to fix amidst the chaos of his every day life.

"I…" he trailed off. He bit his lip, shifting his gaze to the floor. This was more difficult than what he expected.

"I just want to…feel again," he confessed. "Every day I drag myself through life with this numbness, unable to appreciate things like I used to. So many people have tried to reach out to me, but I just brushed them aside. The only time I do feel anything is when I remember…and I can't even face that," Reid sighed.

There was a pause. His eyes met with hers, as he whispered, "I'm just tired of living this way."

Her despondent eyes softened, and she nodded in understanding. "We will get there," she murmured. "This is a big step you are taking, Spencer. And this is going to be a process…but we will work on this together and I promise you that you will feel again."

Once again, there was a silence that flooded the room…but it lacked the previous awkwardness and instead provided a strange comfort.

He didn't know what to say. All he could do was give her an appreciative smile, which she returned.

Slowly, Reid stood up, slinging his book bag over his shoulder. He stepped towards the door as Julianne walked to her desk.

Before reaching for the doorknob, he turned around. "Dr. Remorin?"

She looked up. "Yes?"

He shifted his weight on the heels of his feet, hesitating. It was a question he wanted to ask even before arriving at the office; he just didn't know when exactly to bring it up. "Not many psychiatrists hold therapy sessions; statistically, a very small percentage do, since most prefer to focus on administering medication. So…why do you offer therapy sessions?"

"I actually don't offer them, necessarily," she replied. "I only take certain cases to therapy due to time constraints and my personal choice to give better focus to less patients."

"But why my case?" Reid questioned. "I am sure there are patients out there who are more, well, troubled than me."

There was a pause.

"I took your case as a favor to Agent Hotchner," she admitted honestly. She then took a few steps towards Reid.

"And…I really do understand what you are going through," she spoke quietly, touching his arm gently.

Reid stared at her. The look in her eyes expressed genuine empathy, not empty words like how others feigned in pity.

"I promise you…it will get better," she whispered. She gave his arm a gentle squeeze before letting go. She then slowly took a step back, nodding towards him.

"I will see you next week, same time, Spencer," she reminded him. He nodded.

"Thank you, Dr. Remorin," he murmured.

Walking out of the office, Reid felt a state of tranquility that he lacked going in. He walked in believing that if his own team – his family – couldn't break down the walls he built up, seeking a professional for help would be pointless. He was glad to be wrong. He silently thanked Hotchner for setting up his therapy session and choosing Dr. Remorin for his care.

The bus pulled up to the curb, squealing as the doors opened. Reid stepped in, choosing a seat close to the front. He pulled out his phone from his pocket, checking a text sent from Morgan:

_We have a case in Atlanta. Children killed and parents left as witnesses. Brief you on details when you get here. _

He sent a quick reply and slipped his phone back in his pocket.

But then again…maybe he was getting ahead of himself. After all, this was just his first session and high expectations shouldn't be placed. However, he perceived that Dr. Remorin knew what she was talking about. Not just her words, but also her eyes said it all. And ultimately, if Hotchner trusts her to help him, then he knew more than anything to trust in Hotchner's judgment.

Sure, certainly there were unanswered questions, such as Dr. Remorin's past affiliation with Hotch and the melancholy shining through her eyes. But for now, he pushed them to the back of his mind. It was time for him to head over to headquarters and catch up with the team.


	3. Wishful Thinking

**A/N: Hello, readers! Thank you guys for the encouraging reviews! I seriously feel so honored that you guys are following this. I'm sorry that my normal weekly post is late, since summer classes have been taking away my writing time. But I will still work my hardest to get in a weekly installment for you all. Once again, I promise you guys that you won't be disappointed as the story continues :) happy reading!**

**And I also want to say how really, really, really sorry I am for uploading this chapter several times. You all probably received various alerts on this new chapter. There was an error in the upload that I needed to fix and it took several times to correct.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the show Criminal Minds…even though in my wildest dreams I do.**

* * *

_Maybe I shouldn't…  
_

Reid glanced at Hotch's office door._  
_

_But then again, what do I have to lose?_

"You okay, kid?"

Reid looked up, startled. "Of course I am," he quickly replied, "just reading up on our case." He motioned towards the newspaper in his hands as he leaned back in his chair, averting his eyes to the small letter text.

Morgan took a seat, smirking. "You have been distracted ever since you got here. I could tell that you weren't fully with me as I caught you up on the case."

Reid didn't say anything. As much as he tried to push the unanswered questions to the back of his mind, it was easier said than done once he entered the conference room and caught Hotchner's eye. He could feel the curiosity rekindle, which was now running completely ablaze.

He focused his concentration on the headlines, eyes quickly scanning line after line.

"You can't fool me," Morgan leaned forward in his chair. "You have been eyeing Hotch's door for the past five minutes."

The younger profiler avoided meeting his stare. It was moments like this that peeved him on how well the team knew each other, given their innate skills on reading non-verbal cues.

"So you have been watching me?"

"No. I'd say more like observing."

"That's creepy."

"Call it whatever you want. I can't help but notice what's right in front of me."

"Well, it really isn't anything," Reid huffed. He stood up, folding the newspaper and tossing it onto his desk. "I just need to ask some questions over the crime scene parameters."

Morgan shrugged, amused. "Wouldn't explain your nerves, but alright then."

Annoyed with his close friend's interrogation, Reid traipsed away, dodging eye contact from J.J. as he passed. She shot Morgan a perplexed look, who shook his head in response.

Reid drew in a breath before knocking on Hotch's door. Unlike most people, the team unit chief's stern demeanor normally didn't intimidate him– this being one of those few exceptions.

"Come in," a voice called out.

He entered hesitantly, lingering by the doorway. "Hey, Hotch. I just wanted to clarify some points over the crime scene."

Hotchner didn't seem deterred by his presence, with his eyes still fixated on the case file in his hands. He flipped a page. "You aren't here to ask me questions over the case."

Reid remained quiet, unable to deny the claim. There was no point in denying it now.

"Close the door," Hotch ordered. "Now, what do you really want to ask?"

Reid cleared his throat, fidgeting with his tie.

"I know that it's a strange thing to ask, but how do you and Dr. Remorin know each other?" he eyed Hotchner quizzically, who maintained his composure.

"We met years ago," he replied, his tone flat.

Reid waited for him to elaborate, but no words were further spoken.

"Look, Hotch, I got that. But really, who is she?"

"She's a friend."

"No," he shook his head, taking a step forward. "_Who_ is she?"

Silence filled the room. He stared at Hotch earnestly; hoping to acquire what he had been seeking this whole time. The longer the reticence prolonged, the more aggravated he became.

Shuffling papers and pushing back his chair, Hotchner stood up. He tucked the case file underneath his arm.

"A friend," he repeated.

"But, Hotch-"

"It is not my place or business to tell you," Hotch responded sharply. The look on his face was an expression Reid knew all too well – that was it. Not another word was to be brought up on the issue and that was final.

He leaned down to pick up his briefcase beside his desk and walked towards the door. "We're leaving in 10," he said briskly.

Reid sighed, exasperated. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he reluctantly followed.

A part of him knew that seeking answers through Hotch was going to be futile, but his wishful thinking dashed away such doubt.

He paused mid-step on the catwalk.

But as much as he knew that he ought to drop the issue, those questions continued to burn in his mind, demanding answers. The more evasion of the subject only deepened his curiosity.

He turned to the opposite direction, quickening his pace.

After all, he wasn't one to give up so easily when it came to seeking answers. Spending hours upon hours searching in books for solutions as a child quenched his budding curiosity, and this situation was no different.

He was going to get his answers, one way or another.

"Garcia?"

"Yes, my love?"

"I need you to do some research for me."

**...**

"It's quite bothersome, really."

Julianne stretched out on the blanket, running her fingertips along the blades of grass. She closed her eyes, watching swirls of purples and blues dance underneath her eyelids from the sunlight.

"But it's not like I have much say in it anyway, if she persists to go on living the way that she is," she sighed.

She opened her eyes. The vast blue sky reached out to her, looming above as she outstretched her hand to touch the gossamer wisps of clouds.

"Personally, I think she deserves better…but then again, who am I to be the judge of that?" Julianne mused.

She turned towards the gravestone as if waiting for a response. The stone watched her in its solemn manner, glinting underneath the beam of the sun. The singing of birds and chirping from a lone cricket emanated amongst the undisturbed surroundings. Rustling of leaves on the swaying tree branches quietly whispered their sentiments.

Julianne laughed wistfully and sat up. Running her fingers tentatively over the stone's grainy surface, she traced over the engraved lettering.

"It's around that time again," she murmured. Her eyes clouded over darkly. "Those flowers…"

The wind blew lightly, waving her dark hair around her face. She brushed a strand and tucked it behind her ear.

Biting her lip, she closed her eyes once again.

"It never ends."

* * *

…**and the mystery continues. Sorry to leave you guys on the edge like that. Please leave a review! :)**


	4. Guilt

**A/N: Hello my lovely readers! Thanks for continuing to read this next chapter. I really appreciate the encouraging reviews! You guys are wonderful! :)**

***Random fun fact: Northside is an actual coffee shop/wine bar located in Arlington, Virginia. So if you guys are curious and want to get a good visual of the place you can look it up (they even have their own nifty site).**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Northside Social or the show Criminal Minds.**

* * *

The late morning sun reflected against the deep red paint of the building, as Reid eyed the surrounding pale blue umbrellas that topped numerous tables.

_Northside Social Coffee and Wine._

Not necessarily a huge fan of wine but a well-known fanatic of coffee, Reid took a tip from J.J. to check out the place before heading over to therapy. She raved how the coffee shop was a local favorite that she and Will discovered, serving great French press and breakfast sandwiches. The exhausted young genius yawned, rubbing his eyes.

It had been a long week, with the Atlanta case taking longer than expected. As soon as they arrived back at headquarters they were informed of yet another case that required urgent response, literally sending everyone back to the place for immediate briefing. _"Why can't psychopaths ever take a break?" Morgan muttered, as everyone groaned in unison._

Reid entered the coffee shop, the sound of a chiming bell following. The wonderful smell of roasting coffee beans and freshly baked cookies wafted through the air, accompanying the quiet chatter of customers. It was a nice place, the inside resembling the charming atmosphere of a house similar to its red exterior. Towards the left stood a winding staircase that led up to the second floor wine-bar and lounge area – which J.J. insisted him to try despite his hesitance.

A cappuccino with extra espresso shots sounded great to him, as he eyed the menu behind the counter.

"Julianne!"

He immediately turned towards the voice. A familiar set of green eyes and dark hair hurried past him. "Thanks, Dylan," she smiled, reaching for the coffee cup from the barista.

"Dr. Remorin?"

Startled green irises met his brown ones.

"Spencer? What are you doing here?" she exclaimed, approaching him.

"I got a tip from a friend to check this place out," he gave her a nervous smile. "And you?"

She opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by someone clearing his or her throat. Reid turned, meeting the disapproving looks of the line of people filed behind him. He could feel the heat rise in his cheeks as he awkwardly looked away.

"I'll let you order," she smirked. "You can sit with me over there if you want to." She motioned towards a small table in a corner of the room.

After retrieving his order and taking a handful of Splenda packets, Reid joined Julianne at her table.

"I feel like I'm in high school all over again," he murmured. "You know, feeling relieved that you found a friend in the crowd so you don't have to sit alone."

She took a sip of her coffee. "I'm guessing that was a really awkward time for you, more so than most."

"Well…I was twelve."

"Ah, problems that come with being a genius…being cast out as different, strange," she mused. "If it's any assurance, you are always welcome to sit with me. We can be outcasts together."

Reid laughed, tearing open several Splenda packets. "And why are you considered an outcast?"

Julianne shrugged, breaking off a piece of her scone. She popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "I've never been the type to make a lot of friends…I've always been more to myself," she admitted honestly.

He nodded in understanding. Lifting the coffee cup to his lips, he tasted his coffee and made a face. "Needs more sugar," he muttered. "So, what are you doing here? I would assume that you would be in your office at this time."

She shifted in her seat, smoothing out the wrinkles on her gray dress. "I finished therapy sessions with a patient of mine last week. It leaves me with an empty time slot to relax and get coffee before seeing you." She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes shone as she glanced around. "I love this place. It's my go-to anytime I need to take a break from the office."

Reid examined the walls, eyeing the portraits painted by local artists. Photographs commemorating the coffee shop's humble beginnings were displayed, alongside framed newspaper articles and critic reviews.

"How was your week?" Julianne questioned.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Exhausting. I mean, every week is pretty tiring to begin with, but this past one was just strenuous. Right when we thought we could catch a break another case takes us back to the plane." He took another sip of coffee. "And yours?"

"Filled with paperwork," she sighed, "and I visited loved ones."

"How was that?"

"It was fine," she paused. "It had been awhile since I visited."

The noise level started to pick up, as more people began to flood in for the noontime rush. Julianne ran her fingers over the lid of her coffee cup, idly tracing lazy circles. She seemed to take an interest in a colorful painting of a hummingbird hanging next to a bookshelf.

"You seem bothered."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Generally, people are content after visits with loved ones, especially those they are close to. The way your voice changed held a token of warmth when mentioning them, but your actions reveal that there is distance despite your close relationship."

"Not all visits are pleasant," she shrugged, "and I was just reminded of something."

Reid stared at her, watching as her eyes reflected the familiar wretchedness he remembered so well from their first meeting. He felt his breath catch in his throat, guilt weighing him as he regret his prior comment. He began to miss the way her eyes shone when mentioning something that made her happy or when she was amused by something he said. _Why did you have to say that? Why couldn't you just let it go?_

He felt his phone begin to vibrate in his pocket. Glancing down, he slowly stood up. "Sorry, I have to take this call," he murmured. He carefully dodged the wave of customers flooding in, stepping outside.

"Yes, Garcia?"

"Hello, my sweet," Garcia greeted. Her normally chipper tone was tainted with weariness.

"I'm surprised you're awake," Reid remarked. "I assumed that you would still be asleep given how exhausting last week was."

"Don't remind me," Garcia groaned. "Hotch requested that I look into some murders in Florida over the past month. We may have another case on our hands if local p.d. calls us in." She yawned, exaggerating her intake of breath with a loud grumble.

"Oh!" she gasped with a sudden burst of energy. "My apologies, I almost forgot why I was calling you. Remember that research assignment you gave me last week?"

"Yeah. It's alright that you didn't look into it, we were really busy," he replied. He turned towards the window, glancing at Julianne through the cafe's glass. She continued sipping her coffee, deep in thought.

"Well, I finally had the time – and somewhat a bit of energy – to do some digging on your lady friend."

"She's my _psychiatrist_, Garcia," he corrected, feeling a slight blush warm his cheeks. He realized he probably said that louder than intended, as customers sitting underneath the blue umbrellas gave him strange looks. He felt an increase of heat as the pink increased to red.

"Anyway," she continued, a hint of a smile in her voice. She started to click away on her browser, reading, "Your doctor was born in McLean, Virginia. Her parents are Michael and Irene Remorin, the father an orthopedic surgeon and mother a former lawyer turned housewife, and she doesn't have any siblings."

Reid glanced through the window again, this time catching Julianne's eye. A blonde woman had taken his seat, conversing with her. She gave him a brief smile before nodding back towards her acquaintance.

"She's a smart cookie," Garcia noted, the sound of her mouse clicking vigorously. "Graduated from high school when she was 16, and three years later received a degree in psychology from Northwestern. She attended Washington University School of Medicine and finished when she was 24. She's had her practice up and running for the past four years."

Brow furrowed, Reid shook his head. "Okay. Um, any records involving…run-ins with the law?" he lowered his voice.

"Patience, young Padawan," Garcia chuckled. "I'm getting there. Just wanted to give you her basic info while we're at it." The sound of a keyboard quickly typing away and mouse clicks followed.

He started to pace, mind racing.

"Aside from the occasional speeding ticket here and there, none."

"And her parents?"

"Way ahead of you, boy wonder," Garcia smirked, "Zilch on her parentals. They're clean."

He ran a hand through his hair, perplexed. "Any involvement in a previous case? Search interviews and interrogations concerning her or her parents."

More clicking and typing occurred but with less enthusiasm.

"None. The Remorins are clear," Garcia sighed.

Reid froze. "No, no, no," he muttered. "Nothing at all? That can't be. There must be a connection somehow...any records of contact between Hotch and her parents?"

She immediately jumped onto the lead, taking a while longer than her previous searches. "Digging around, there isn't any paper trail left behind that indicates that they have ever crossed paths. Same goes for phone records."

There was a long pause.

"I'm sorry, Reid," Garcia whispered. "I tried. I'll keep looking into it, but I can't promise anything."

"Thanks," he replied, sullen. He hung up and blankly stared into space.

_How can that be?_

**...**

Garcia unhooked her Bluetooth and removed her glasses, rubbing her eyes. She sighed, shaking her head.

"I hate lying to him."

"You are withholding information in a situation in that it is necessary."

Hotch stood behind her, arms crossed and stern demeanor intact. Garcia swiveled her chair around.

"It doesn't make me feel any better," she whispered. She buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed with remorse.

"We just don't want him to be distracted from therapy. It is best for his treatment," Hotch reminded her. Garcia lifted her head.

"He needs honesty more than ever," she whispered, "especially in a time like this. You know how he is when he is lied to…walls fly up and mistrust develops. I just don't want to be on the receiving end of this."

"It's not right for him to know this way," he replied coldly. "If he wants to know then it ought to be directly from her."

She turned back to her screen, the red 'Sealed Files' notification encompassing the browser. She turned it off and nodded.

"I know," she murmured. "Not like this."

**...**

"I'm fine, really," Reid insisted. The weak smile, however, said otherwise.

"You know, as a profiler I would think that you would do a better job than that," Julianne teased. She reached over to the coffee table and retrieved a folder next to an arrangement of small porcelain figures.

"Better job at what?"

"Lying."

"I'm not."

"Mm-hmm," she smiled. "You've been acting strangely ever since that phone call."

Reid shrugged, absently tugging at a loose string on his cardigan. "It was about a case. Leads have hit a dead end."

Her face fell, as she bit her lip. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's nothing…it happens."

Silence followed as Julianne straightened in her seat. "So, how about let's start at the beginning, with your childhood?"

Reid adjusted as well, eyes leveling with hers. _There is so much more to you than I could ever know._

He smiled slightly. _But I'm still not one to give up so easily._

"My childhood was…well, unconventional, to say the least," he started. "Rather than playing outside with the other kids, my playmates were books. My mother introduced them to me as early as I could remember, always reading Chaucer, Kempe, and her other favorites."

He hesitated for a moment. "I would have to take care of her most of the time…she's a paranoid schizophrenic. But when my father left us, that 'most of the time' became always."

"And how was that like for you?" Julianne softly asked.

"Terrifying," he admitted. "Parents are supposed to be the ones caring for their kids, not the other way around. It was tiring, too, watching her to make sure she took the right amount of medication and calming her from her delusions."

A fleeting image of his mother holding her bottle of pills crossed his mind.

_"Mom, please, don't do this," he cried._

_"There isn't another way, Spencer," Diana breathed heavily. "It's time to end this."_

_She twisted the cap of the bottle, raising it to her mouth._

_"No!" he screamed. He launched himself at her, knocking the bottle out of her hand. Diana threw him aside, head knocking into a table. A vase shattered, glass shards scattering across the floor. Ignoring the pain, he fervently scrambled through the glass after the rolling bottle and threw it far out of her reach._

_He watched as she curled into a ball on the floor, hugging her knees and sobbing._

_"I'm so sorry, Mom," he whispered, tears filling his eyes. "I'm sorry."_

Reid drew a deep breath, blinking back tears.

"She had her bad days, and she had her worse days. To be honest, there were rarely any good ones…and there were only so many days I could take."

He lowered his head, the familiar shame returning. "I sent her away to a mental facility. She was far unable to take care of herself and I couldn't stand seeing her like that anymore."

He rubbed his eyes, reasons far from his previous fatigue.

"It was selfish of me. I convinced myself that my reason for sending her away was entirely about her inability to self-care, but I was just too exhausted from always having to be the one to give her that care…" his breathing deepened. "I wasn't just tired of seeing her live like that but I felt the same way about myself."

He realized that this confession was far beyond what he ever honestly admitted to the team, and he felt a weight lift as a result. Over all these years, such feelings of selfishness over his mother ruminated in his mind but were clumsily pushed to the furthest recesses of his psyche.

"I'm sorry, Spencer," Julianne whispered.

He stared emptily at the coffee table. She leaned forward.

"You did what you had to do," she murmured. "It wasn't selfish of you. You're feeling guilty because you realized that she wasn't getting any better despite your best efforts, and you knew that there was only so much care you could give her. She needed full-time, professional treatment…something that you couldn't offer."

Her words reached out to him, soothing him where the shame embedded in his scars seethed pain. His eyes meet hers as he grimaced.

"It's still hard for me to see her," he admitted, "which is why I don't visit often. I blame it on not having enough time, although that's not the real reason. I try to compensate by writing her letters every day…but sometimes it doesn't feel like it's enough."

"If it doesn't feel like it's enough…why don't you do more about it?"

He looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"How about, rather than writing to her all the time, you give her a call every once in awhile? It may not be a visit, but at least she gets to hear your voice."

He paused. Strangely enough, it never really dawned on him before. _Why don't I ever call her? _Maybe it was out fear of some sorts, not just the blame placed on what he had to do. And he knew it was time to properly face it.

"Little steps, Spencer," Julianne smiled. "These little steps are what it takes to heal."

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**I hope you liked this chapter! Please leave a review :) and if you haven't yet, go ahead and press that pleasant little button at the bottom of this page to follow/favorite this story. **


	5. Sanity

**A/N: Hello, my readers! Thanks for the great reviews and continuing to follow this story. Just fyi, this chapter takes place a week later from the last (in case you're wondering and to clear up any confusion), given how they have weekly therapy sessions and all. And on a side note, for any Doctor Who or The Fosters fans out there, I'm currently in the works for two stories: "The Doctor and Rose's Infinite Playlist" and "Clarity" (respectively). So keep an eye out, yes? Happy reading and enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds :(**

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_Pale skin, bloodstained, cracked lips, vacant eyes…_

_"It's not your fault. You tried your best."_

_He gently moved the white sheet back over the body. She stumbled, crying as she shakily backed up against the wall._

_"My best just wasn't good enough. I broke my promise."_

_A loud hissing began to surround her; whispers of "Your fault, your fault, all your fault" came from every direction, increasing in volume until they became shouts._

_"No, no, no! Please!" she screamed, losing feeling in her legs._

_"Your fault! Your fault!"_

_She attempted to cover her ears, sobbing. Darkness began to surround her, consuming her as an emerging figure pinned her against the wall. Cold hands vehemently grabbed her, forcing her to look into piercing bloodshot eyes._

_"It's all your fault."_

"No! No, no, no!"

Gasping, Julianne's eyes flashed open. She immediately sat up in bed, heart racing as she breathed heavily. The dim moonlight shining in the darkness of the room surrounded her, silent as she battled to regain her composure. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, shakily craning her neck to squint at her alarm clock.

2:45. She shook her head, groaning.

"Damn," she muttered to herself. Julianne slumped back into her pillows, pulling the sheets over her face.

A silent tear slid down her cheek, which she hastily wiped away. She dejectedly turned to her other side and continued to fight back the buildup of tears that formed in the back of her throat, attempting to regain sleep.

**…**

The morning dragged on, sunlight blinding and time unraveling painfully slow.

Leaning forward against the table for support, Julianne propped herself up on her elbow as she absently flipped through pages in the open folders. Her eyes were drifting to a close every once in a while; head bobbing forward despite her best efforts to fight the exhaustion. Northside's French press couldn't even salvage her; at some point she abruptly awoke from a fleeting sleep, startled and breathing heavily. People sitting around turned and gave her concerned glances, whispering amongst themselves.

"Dr. Remorin? Are you alright?"

She looked up, smiling weakly. "Oh, it's nothing…just had one of those falling dreams again."

"Physiologically speaking, falling dreams are the result of your blood pressure and heart rate dropping from lack of oxygen, thus suddenly 'jerking' you awake. Of course, there are symbolic representations that vary, such as loss of control in a life event, but I'm not exactly one for dream analysis."

"It's nice to see you, too, Spencer," Julianne chuckled. "How did you know I was here?"

"Just had a feeling," he shrugged. "And you mentioned last week that you're always here before our therapy, so that might have helped."

Reid carefully slid into a seat, setting a coffee cup in front of her and one for him.

She stared at him, puzzled. "But I already have coffee…?"

"I saw you nodding off when I came in…the first obviously wasn't enough. I know a sleepless night even from across the room, so I asked for extra espresso shots, too."

"Thank you," she murmured. Sighing gratefully, she raised the coffee cup to her lips. "And the fact that I look terrible must have also given it away, right?"

"No. I still think you look lovely," he replied honestly.

A faint blush warmed her cheeks, as Reid realized what he bluntly said. "Thanks," she smiled.

He nodded with a sheepish grin.

"Nightmares?"

She continued sipping her coffee, not immediately responding. She seemed to be in a silent war with herself, unsure of what to say. Slowly setting down the cup, she reluctantly met his stare and nodded.

"Yeah…I guess you can say that. And once they start they tend to linger for a while."

"And what triggers them?" he questioned.

Reid realized he struck a nerve as her expression hardened, a grimace tugging on her lips. Her hesitation in revealing a bit of herself was quickly cut short, her silent walls drawn up, shutting him out. She momentarily distracted herself, organizing the small stack of folders that she brought with her into a neat pile and aligning their edges to each other before pushing them aside.

"Are we switching roles now as psychiatrist and patient?" Julianne questioned dryly, her eyebrow raised and tone mocking.

"No…I'm just concerned and curious," he responded earnestly. "But mostly concerned. Like when we first met I told you about my nightmares…although I didn't go into extensive detail over them, once they're set off they remain in my subconscious for weeks. It's disturbing, the replay of the same horror over and over again until you feel yourself wavering on a blade's edge of sanity." His voice trembled slightly at the last words of his sentence.

Reid paused briefly. "I just know how it's like to be tormented by your subconscious, when there is no real escape from the misery of being awake. And the worst of all…they aren't just nightmares. They're memories, mercilessly haunting you."

She remained silent, unresponsive to his confession. He began to feel worried, wondering if his honesty scared her, pushing her further away into herself than drawing her back. Despite the very little she gave, it was still something. Something that revealed a slight part of her that took a lot for her to say, establishing her trust in him. He couldn't lose her now that he caught a glimpse behind the barriers.

However, his worries vanished when he felt her hand slowly touch his, her once-contemptuous expression softening.

Rather than feeling uneasy, something about her touch felt…_right. _Warm. Gentle. He remembered the way she softly touched his arm with solace at the end of their first meeting.

"Certain sounds and smells," she finally sighed. "Those are what trigger them."

Reid brought his other hand up to cover hers, this time giving her a gentle squeeze. A shared understanding passed between them that lacked words. Shame and regret emanated from her eyes, feelings he understood all too well. _What happened to you?_ He longed to ask her, but held back.

Neither of them moved away their hands for a while, allowing themselves to seek comfort in each other's gentle touch.

**…**

"Give them to me!"

"No! Not until we reach your desk!" Reid laughed, his left arm securely gripping onto the short stack of folders out of Julianne's reach. She made a quick grab for them, only to be playfully swatted aside.

"I can handle carrying a small stack of folders while walking three blocks, thank you," she huffed. They entered the waiting room, breaking the stillness of the TV faintly playing in the background with their laughter. Sharon, Julianne's receptionist, remained perched at her position behind the counter and gave them a stiff smile.

"Accept my generosity without question!" he demanded.

She brought a hand up to her forehead, dramatically keeling over. "Oh, how polite of you! How could I ever handle carrying a few folders down the street without your assistance?"

"That's acceptable," he grinned at her, nodding.

Julianne smirked, unlocking the door to her office and flipping on the light switch.

However, the playfulness in her mood shifted as her smile disappeared.

A bouquet of varying white flowers was placed on her desk, alongside a note pinned to its white ribbon tied around the stems.

She dropped her purse aimlessly to the floor and quickly retrieved the bouquet, tearing the note from the ribbon. She opened it, her eyes widening upon reading the content as she held her breath.

"Dr. Remorin?" Reid whispered.

Julianne crumpled the note in her hands, throwing it in the trashcan. Her once pale face now flushed in hurt and anger.

"I-I need some air," she shook her head, storming out of the room briskly and slamming the door. Following her exit, the slamming of another door and muffled yelling was heard as she was undoubtedly interrogating Sharon over the unexpected ordeal.

Stupefied, Reid just stood there.

_What the hell just happened?_

Slowly picking up Julianne's neglected purse and placing the stack of folders onto the coffee table, he eyed the trashcan curiously.

_No, no no…don't do this, Spencer. She will be coming back any minute now._

Unfortunately, the battle between his self-control and curiosity resulted in the prevail of the latter. He found himself leaning over the trashcan, eyes fixated on the scrunched up note calling his name. Tentatively, he reached into the trash and retrieved it, careful not to make too much noise as he began to unfold.

However, the slam of a door and approaching footsteps broke his grace as he impulsively stuffed the note into his pocket, sprinting for the couch. He straightened himself in his seat, attempting to even his breathing.

"I'm so sorry about that," Julianne said, closing the door behind her gently. She walked over to her desk and calmly tossed the bouquet into the trash before settling on the loveseat.

"Is everything…alright?" Reid asked, unsure of how to approach her.

"Everything is fine. Just a misunderstanding, that's all," she nodded, dismissive in tone. Her eyes were cold, disinclined to elaborate.

"Persistent secret admirer?" he quipped lightly, attempting to alleviate the heavy mood.

"No," she replied curtly. "Now, let's start with our therapy, yes?"

A soft knock on the door interrupted him before he could respond. Sharon opened the door slightly, clearly apologetic and anxious as she peered through.

"Doctor, you have a phone call," she whispered. "It's important."

An uncomfortable silence shrouded the room, the tension thick enough to be sliced clean through. Julianne pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated. "I'm sorry about this, Spencer," she sighed, shaking her head as she left the room briskly and shut the door behind her once again.

Reid reached into his pocket for the note, ears and eyes alert. He bit his lip, pausing before unfolding it.

By unfolding this note, he knew that he would invade Julianne's guarded world, finding a fault in the walls and slipping through, unnoticed. As much as he tried to ignore it, he knew that he would be breaking her trust in order to gain a grasp of who she is.

_But that is only if she finds out. _He shook his head at the thought. His lack of a moral compass in this situation was rather unsettling. Nonetheless, his futile attempts to seek answers from varying sources pushed him to this point.

The guilt biting away at his conscious, though, was clouded by fear. This could change everything. Everything that they worked for, how they see, interact, feel towards each other, could drastically change just by reading this piece of paper.

But he needed answers. All he wanted was to understand.

He opened the note, mouth silently moving as he read the words:

_'Emma is alive.'_

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**What do you guys think? Another piece to the puzzle has been found. Reid and Julianne's connection has been significantly progressing, but what consequences will this note entail? Please leave a review :) and press that follow/favorite button if you haven't already to stay tuned.**


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